


Tender

by pontmercy44



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben has game, Established Relationship, F/M, FWB, Kinky Shit, Meeting the Parents, Netflix and Chill? More like Bone and Banter., No Hook Ups Please, Rey's a weird talker, Single Parents, Swipe, Tinder "dates", Tinder is for lovers, accidentally v, and good grammar, butt stuf, dtf, living at home, sex buddies, vanilla shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 01:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18173957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pontmercy44/pseuds/pontmercy44
Summary: Rey and Ben meet on Tinder. Again, and again, and again.***A series of stand-alone one shots.





	Tender

Ben budgeted for one date a week. He scheduled one date a week. His dollars and his Thursday nights almost never were spent on the same woman. When he’d first downloaded Tinder, that had been disappointing. He’d been itching for a girlfriend, in the wake of a nasty breakup.

Then, it had been thrilling. His ex-girlfriend had fucked somebody else, and well, he was outdoing her. He was fucking somebody elses. Not every Thursday – he’d learned very quickly that Tinder was like betting on a racehorse without looking at it – but on enough Thursdays. And occasionally, if they were cute and made breakfast and he called in sick, on Fridays.

Ben had a strategy. At three or four in the afternoon, he looked at the app under his desk at work and swiped until he matched with someone. Anyone would do, since he only swiped on people he would be happy to have sex with. He always approached the aspirational date first, and led with the same statement: _you have plans tonight._

Most girls ignored his punctation and responded _no, you?_

And then, he shot back, ever so smoothly, _no, that wasn’t a question. You have plans tonight. The bar on top of the midtown W. 8 PM._

It always worked.

Tonight, he’d gotten caught up with a meeting and hadn’t had time to embark on his weekly sex trawl. It was six o’clock and as he loosened his tie, he glumly swiped, sure that, like a superstitious gambler who didn’t follow his routine to a tee, he’d swing and miss.

The first girl he matched with had a smile bigger than really should have been attractive and what he could only describe as a five-head. If he were the kind of person to troll girls on twitter, he might have commented on it. But he wasn’t, and she was… attractive. Her name was Rey.

She noticed his punctuation and called him out on it in thirty seconds flat, instead of playing hard to get and not answering for an hour, and suddenly, she was _very_ attractive.

 _Bad grammar is such a turn-off_.

Ben chewed his lip. _How about confidence?_

_Yes._

_Go out with me._

Little dots danced. Then, _I’m not looking for anything serious._

Ben reached down between his legs and adjusted himself gently. It wasn’t good to get his hopes up – this girl would probably not be as cute as her pictures, she was probably just teasing him and giggling about it with her girlfriends, she probably was a fifty year old man – but his dick didn’t appear to be daunted by any of the cautionary tales of Tinder.

With one hand, he typed, _we don’t have to go to a funeral or a reading of Emily Dickenson poems._

The little dots danced for so long that Ben began to think Rey didn’t have a dry sense of humor and while that wasn’t a deal-breaker, it wasn’t ideal. Neither was the nervous knot in his belly as he watched her type and type and _, my god_ , type.

Her response appeared after an agonizingly long time. She must have gone through several drafts.

He’d never seen a paragraph on Tinder before.

He’d never met a girl like Rey on Tinder before, either.

_I don’t want to go to a funeral or a poetry slam (do they slam Emily Dickenson?). I don’t want to go to a loud bar, either. I want to stay in my apartment, and I want you to fuck me silly. But I’m a responsible adult (kind of) so we need to meet in a public place, first. I am a real adult, by the way. I’m twenty-two._

Ben swallowed hard, glancing down at his dick. It seemed to be peering up anxiously at his phone in his lap, as if worried he’d fuck up this remarkable opportunity. Ben squinted at the harshly lit screen of his iPhone. She really was cute. Cute, and funny, and she wasn’t playing games or being obnoxious and coy.

Humor, he decided. Humor had gotten him this far. She’d invited him to have sex, for God’s sake. Stay the course.

_Will you show me your ID? You seem nervous._

_I’ll show you my tits._

_Ass man._

_Good, my tits are rubbish._

***

They met at a hilariously unsexy location – the laundromat on her block. It wasn’t even the sort of place where they could pretend to be looking for love.

Still, Ben was a gentleman.

 “You can back out.” He told her, thrusting his hands in his pockets and approaching her between the rows of industrial dryers.

Rey turned, eyes wide. Her mouth made a perfectly round shape that he wanted to stick his dick into. If she still wanted him to, that was. “Oh. Oh no. No, no, no.”

An awkward, relieved laugh burst from Ben’s chest. He’d never outgrown the self-consciousness that his adolescence has fostered. Plenty of Tinder dates had been disappointed by his appearance. That was probably his fault. In all of his pictures, he posed staring straight into the camera, so his crooked nose was hidden, and wore his hair combed down over his ears. He could sometimes overcome a woman’s disappointed with a nice glass of wine and sushi, a few well-timed jokes, and his big, big hands.

“No means no.” He teased, her reaction making him a bit cocky. He made a show of turning away. “I respect that.”

“No!” Rey grabbed his sleeve. When he turned, they were standing very close. Her eyes were dilated. “No, I want to.”

“Say it.” Ben dropped the timbre of his voice. No one could have heard him over the rumble of the washers and dryers, but it felt sexier to rasp those two words.

A pretty flush rose to Rey’s cheeks. It was endearingly at odds with the blunt, analytical way she’d propositioned him for sex. “I think I spelled it out for you already.”

“With perfect grammar.” Ben grinned, rocking on his heels a bit. Every time he rocked forward, he was very close to her face. Every time he rocked forward, she tilted her chin a little bit higher. “That’s rare on Tinder.”

***

What was rarer still on Tinder was finding someone who fit like an old pair of sweatpants – comfortable, unpretentious, but still kind of sexy.

The first time they had sex wasn’t physically comfortable, exactly – they did it on her loveseat and he six goddamn feet tall – and his dick awkwardly slipped out of her a few too many times to pretend it hadn’t happened and just keep thrusting. But it was emotionally comfortable, somehow.

Ben laughed, nervously, when she elbowed him in the chest as he folded her legs up and readjusted her pelvis, slipping and sliding like a virgin, the seam at the edge of the condom rolling up his shaft and making him curse and fumbled around to fix it. She laughed, not nervously at all. Her arms were splayed out and she had a tiny bit of stubble underneath them. She was unself-conscious about both her body hair and her laughter, which was as toothy as her smile. She was at ease with herself and her decisions and that put him at ease.

He pulled one of her breasts over the top of the spaghetti-strap tank-top she was wearing. That squished it; made it looked bigger. Ben worried the nipple with his hand as he reared up and pumped into her, enjoying the weird squelching and slapping noises of really wet sex. Hoarsely, he said, “Rubbish.”

Rey grinned. She reached up and gestured loosely, as if she was drunk, for him to _come down here_. Those teeth clacked against his as he kissed her, and she laughed into his mouth while the couch springs creaked, drowning out the noises that were awkward to hear with a stranger.

***

The second time they had sex, the next morning. was physically comfortable and emotionally comfortable.

Ben called into work and cancelled. The low, sexually-satisfied rumble of his voice wasn’t subtle or quiet. The secretary huffed disapprovingly, and, tucked into his side in a little ball like a kitten, Rey woke up, looking over her shoulder. A piece of hair was stuck in her mouth and her eyes were crusty.

Ben threw his phone. He meant to throw it on the ground, but her bedroom was tiny, and it hit the wall. Caging her with one arm, he leaned over her and kissed her nose. She scrunched up her lips as if she was expecting a kiss on the mouth next, but he bypassed her lups and went for her other lips, kissing his way down her belly.

With a hand twisted lazily in his hair, Rey said something people never said the morning after a Tinder date. During the date, they were high on adrenaline and sex. They were uninhibited. In the morning, they were ashamed. Rey was completely unashamed and uninhibited in the golden morning light. “Do you want to lick my pussy?”

“I don’t lick pussy.” Ben told her, resting his chin on her tummy.

“We’re done.”

“I eat it.” Ben interjected, before she could kick him out from between her legs and out of bed. “I really get in there. Open mouth. Sloppy.”

Rey giggled, covering her face with her hand. “I’d rather just fuck.”

Ben blinked at her. “Huh?”

Rey peeked at him between her fingers. With one hand, she snaked her way over to the bedside table and plucked up a condom, handing it to him. “I just want you to spoon me and… fuck me. Under the covers. Like we’re…”

“A couple?”

Rey didn’t break eye contact. Her honesty was breathtaking, just as it had been the night before – but in a different way. “I want to feel loved. Isn’t that what everyone’s looking for on Tinder?”

Ben rose up over her and rolled the condom on. He’d been half-hard, already, but the idea of loving her – of being loved by her – somehow made him fully erect. He rolled like a felled tree onto his side, cuddling up behind her and nestling beneath the tangled blankets. In her ear, as he prodded her cunt with his dick, he whispered, “You wanted to get fucked silly last night.”

“I want to get fucked sweet this morning.” Rey breathed, into her pillow. “I want you to fuck me like you’re going to take me home to your mom – _unnnnh_.” She made a low, grunting sound as he penetrated her, scrabbling at his forearm. “Like you want to make me breakfast.”

“I’ll make you breakfast.” Ben huffed in his ear as he rolled his hips into her cunt until his pelvis was flush with her ass.

“Not just scrambled eggs or some shit. Eggs benedict. Belgian Waffles.” Rey squirmed and sighed as he reached around her hip and started to play with her clit between his middle and pointer finger as he thrust. “I want you to fuck me like we’re watching the news while you fuck me. Like the kids are asleep down the hallway.”

“You’re so fucking weird.” Ben grunted. “I want four.”

“Two.” Rey didn’t miss a beat.

“Three.” Ben mouthed at her neck.

“I want you to fuck me like I don’t have to care about shaving anymore – ”

Ben burst into laughter. He muffled it in her hair. Somehow, he didn’t stop thrusting. He’d met women who had made him laugh. He’d fucked women. She was the first woman he could laugh at and fuck simultaneously. “You didn’t shave.”

“I wanted the boyfriend experience.” Rey twisted her head to kiss his chin.

Ben regarded her thoughtfully. “Kiss me on the mouth, then.”

She did, and he started to move again. Her mattress wasn’t as squeaky as her loveseat was, but it was equally as cramped. Under the covers, it was hot and sweaty despite their languid pace. Rey buried her head into the pillow as she orgasmed, his fingers flicking away under the hood of her clit. When she lifted her face, her hair was stuck to her rosy cheeks with sweat.

“Do you want me to say I love you?” Ben asked, in a moment of delirious pleasure, as his balls drew up against his abdomen and his lower back spasmed.

Rey kissed his bicep, craning her neck at a ridiculous angle. “I don’t need you to. You made me feel loved.” She kissed the inside of his elbow, scratching her fingers against his wrist. “I feel so safe and warm and… fuzzy.”

Ben didn’t. He felt tightly wound and lightheaded. Somehow, her crazy talk had done that to him. “I need to fuck you.”

“You are fucking me.” Rey stretched and purred, and he winced, trapped inside her.

“… silly.”

With a wicked grin over her shoulder, Rey rolled onto her belly. Somehow, he didn’t slip out – where he wondered, had that coordination been the night before? – and as he straddled her, he sunk even deeper in. The soft globes of her ass were smushed up against his thighs. He gripped them, intended to thrust about forty times, thrust about four times, and blew his load into the condom, saying something unintelligible but still somehow obscene.

Breathing heavily, Ben stared at her bare back. After a long moment, still inside her, getting soft, he said, “I don’t know how to make Eggs Benedict.”

Rey laughed into the mattress. “That’s just a sex thing. I don’t really want Eggs Benedict.”

“Oh.” Ben stammered. He knew he ought to get out of and off of her. This was his cue. She didn’t want him to stay for breakfast. She didn’t want the things she’d said she wanted, the things that made him so horny and so hard. The things he’d dared to imagine –

Rey tucked her hands under her cheek and wriggled her hips beneath him. “Scrambled is fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I envisioned this as a series of stand-alone one-shots (isn't that kind of what Tinder dates are?) about two people meeting on Tinder. And boning. That's it. Don't think too hard about it. Do tell ya friends. Do post it on Twitter. Do comment with your best (or worst!) Tinder experience. Or one you'd like to read about, at least.


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